


Shouting Into The Void

by JJBATrash



Series: Fate Week 2021 Fic-A-Day [1]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Angst, FateWeek Day 1, FateWeek2021, Gen, Inner Dialogue, Memory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28664517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJBATrash/pseuds/JJBATrash
Summary: Sometimes, it's better not to remember. That's the coward's way out, so they say. But, what do you do when the memories are just too much to handle?
Series: Fate Week 2021 Fic-A-Day [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108739
Kudos: 5





	Shouting Into The Void

My eyes opened to a vast expanse of darkness. There have been many planes of darkness or emptiness that I had seen before, but this one felt different from most of the others. Not only was it bereft of objects, or other people, it was empty of… anything. This was a realm that was truly a Void.

…Ah. So that’s where I was, then. I had seen this place exactly once before, and back then it felt as ephemeral as a dream toeo. Was I even moving in this space? _Could_ I? I tried, and it didn’t feel like anything, so I can only assume it did not matter whether I was or could. I simply was Here.

But why? Why was I brought back to this place? I’m no warrior, I’m barely a Mage, and I certainly am not a swordsman. So… what brings me back to the Void where I witnessed the greatest sword duel in all of history unfold?

_clang…_

The clashing of metal resounds, and at the same time does not. It simply rings in my head like a metallic heartbeat, and also consumes the darkness.

_schwing…_

The movement of a blade, a violent slash of metal on metal… I hear it, and yet only imagine it. I see no one, unlike back then. There is no Sasaki Kojirou and his laundry pole sword, longer than he is tall. There is no Miyamoto Musashi, both hands holding fast to twin ferocious blades. But the echoes of that day, the feeling of that fight, remains here long after the final sword was swung, and the eternity of the Void ended in an instant.

Why am I here?

Who am I watching now?

What am I doing in this space?

I do not belong here. Like many places in time and space… I do not belong here. Circumstance alone brought me, fate itself the only justification for why someone as unworthy as me was ever anywhere.

Fuyuki.

Orleans.

Rome.

Okeanos.

London.

America.

Camelot.

Babylonia.

The Throne of Time.

Shinjuku.

Agartha.

Shimousa.

Salem.

The Lostbelts of Russia, Scandinavia, and China.

All of these supposed distortions, wrong histories, unwanted alterations to History. Sure that makes enough sense I guess.

But not just them. Chaldea as well…

Did I ever really belong with any of them, or did I just happen to them?

I know it’s unreasonable to ask. But the thought which has rooted itself firmly in my mind, now seeing its chance, will not give pause or miss this opportunity.

_Clang! Clash!_

I remember the day I first woke up on the floor of Chaldea. I opened my eyes to see Fou, and immediately after, Mash. I remember meeting Olga-Marie in the Command Room, and Doctor Roman in My Room. I remember… the flames consuming most of the place. The fire that almost claimed me as well… and from that moment on, I’ve never stopped feeling the heat just behind my back, or stopped smelling the smoke, choking on it whenever I have a spare moment. That feeling of finality that never actually ended. The infinity of my imminent death, replaying forever in the corners of my mind, joined steadily by every close encounter, every hard-fought battle, every single life I either witnessed — or personally ordered — the end of.

I remember making friends with Servants and people alike, all doomed to die, or fade away, or be unremembered by anyone except me and a small handful of others. I remember watching even the friends I made in the “proper” history dwindle away and perish. Romani… Da Vinci… perishing for what? The world? That’s understandable. The whole of human existence, small in the cosmic scale though it is, at least matters if to no one but us. But what kills me is the look each of them gave me. It wasn’t just for the history of mankind. It wasn’t just for the sake of the world. It was for me.

I never deserved an ounce of their sacrifice and nothing I do will earn it.

_Bash! Clash! Schwing! Clang!_

I was there when she died, too… sort of. Had she let me stay with her, instead of throwing me out the window when I thought we would leave together… Dammit Musashi, we should have left together, or at least died together…! I can still smell the smoke, choking my lungs. I can still feel the heat, burning my nostrils. I can still remember the feeling of crumbling rubble bouncing off my body.

The flames… always the flames. They are right behind me, they are everywhere, and everything I do causes someone or somewhere to go up in them. If Prometheus brought the fire of creativity and rationality to humankind then I am the harbinger of the flames of apocalypse. Everywhere I go, everyone I meet, is doomed to die painfully, regretfully. It isn’t fair. Why do they have to die and I continue to live? Why is it me that has to go on carrying this burden, carrying these flames on my back that can never burn me? Why do I get to live with this dread and despair, and get no relief!? At least when I end up being the death of all these people, there’s an end to it for them! They don’t burn forever with fear of when it will all end, they don’t burn with guilt over having killed them all!

All of these dragons, Servants, monsters, Demon God Pillars and other beings that use fire… never once have they managed to burn me. An entire city of flames, being trapped in a collapsing castle of flames, an attack on par with the heat death of the universe, or literally being shoved into a Reality Marble where there was nothing _BUT_ flames, have done nothing to burn away a shred of my existence, my guilt, my remorse…

Why?

_Why?_

**_WHY?_ **

The echoing clash of blades reverberate in my skull, threatening to penetrate outward and inward at the same time, splitting me from the head down the middle…! I can’t tell if I actually do it, but I feel like slamming my hands to my ears and screaming, screaming into a Void that can’t hear me, won’t hear me, doesn’t give a DAMN about me…! This is hell! This is my Hell! An infinity with nothing, where nothing can hurt me! I don’t want this! I want to die! Please let me die! I’m sick of living through all this! I’m sick of constantly being the one to restore everything, yet always destroying it instead! Why do I get to live and all of these people, all of these possibilities, all of these more deserving things have to go away? Why is this my fault!? What did I do to deserve this! I just wanted to save people! I just wanted to be someone who could do something worthwhile! I didn’t want THIS! I DON’T WANT THIS!

The sound of swords cease. And yet, I feel as though nothing has been accomplished. A fight to a stalemate. What even was this…? Some cliché battle inside the mind? A conflict of the soul? There _is_ no conflict! I am irrevocably wrong! I am a hideous mockery of everything I might have wanted to be… there is nothing for me here! Literally Nothing!

…Musashi… what did she feel when she entered this place? This eternal instant she sought for so long… the perfection of her life, the crystallization of her work… what was it that she felt? Was it rewarding? Was it disappointing? She died not long after… and I never got to ask her what she felt. She wore a smile to the end, though, and her tone was as cheerful as ever, given the circumstance. This nothingness… once I get over how empty it is, I start to appreciate it. Just a little, anyway. I can’t see, hear, or feel anything. There’s no scent in the air. It’s truly a vacuum devoid of any semblance of existence.

So this is what it feels like…? This is what it is to not exist? If I could, I would smile. I would laugh. I would probably break down in hysterics. Is this what ultimately awaits me when whatever game I’m being made to play is over? Could this be the ending that all beings get to when their lives are complete?

I might deserve to die in flames. I might be a blood clot in the veins of the universe. I might be someone who does not, cannot, and will not ever deserve to live. No… I know I am. No matter what anyone says. But this emptiness, this solitude… I want to think I deserve this.

There are no more swords swinging or banging against each other. My mental conflict is unresolved. There are no winners here. But, just for a moment… I would like to stay here anyway. I was never really good at it, but I take some of the advice I remember from Inshun and Sanzang. I envision myself sitting, if there were a floor of this emptiness upon which to sit. I see myself close my eyes, which would matter if there was any light in this place. I imagine taking a deep breath, if there was air in this space. And… it does nothing. But I remain like this, I keep the image in my head of this… for as long as I feel like it.

No enlightenment comes to me. I don’t want any, anyway. I just want the pain to stop. And, eventually, it does. I begin to welcome the Void, and the Void greets me in turn.

* * *

Here, there is no time, no space, no fate, no good, and no evil. It is devoid of thought or feeling; a place that only those who have achieved true mastery of themselves can reach. Alternatively, it is a dream; a vision of hell that all villains see before they die.

Your swords crossed but for a moment, yet in that moment, infinite possibilities played out. How long will you stay here, alone, attempting to kill yourself? It seems as though it will continue forever, with no end in sight.

This is not a world. It is neither a Chronicle Theoretical Phenomenon, nor a Pruning Theoretical Phenomenon. It is something beyond even the rift of reality and dreams. An impossible domain, where infinity and zero clash endlessly. And yet… there is no other here to observe you.

Only you witness this. You alone will see how this ends. Who will it be? Which ideal do you hold most dear?

* * *

Is it my infinite hatred for myself? Is it my own lack of apathy for the world around me? Infinity versus zero, just as it was back then, but nothing so heroic or miraculous or wonderful.

Here, it is just me, sparring against my own feelings with my other feelings. The swords are nothing more than a representation, a ghost of the duel I witnessed in what felt like a lifetime ago. But there is no winner here. There can never be. There is no one to call it, and there is no way one can kill the other anyway. No matter what I do… I will always hate myself. I will always wander through this life hating myself and hating my choices, knowing what they mean for others around me. But I will also always love this world. I will always try to do the right thing to save it, even if I know that saving some means damning others. I don’t know which one is greater. I don’t know which one is correct.

The only things I know is that it isn’t fair that I get to decide this. It isn’t fair that I have to keep living. It isn’t fair that everything I touch dies, even the ones I love.

All I can do, is hope that this world I’m fighting for is worth it. That these people are worth it. That those who don’t get to make it because of my choices know it isn’t personal and that it isn’t something I would like to do if I could find any other way.

No… that’s a lie. That’s not what I want at all. What I want… What I hope for…

I hope everyone can forgive me. As selfish as that is. I just want to be forgiven. The guilt of seeing everyone — I don’t care how theoretical or “not supposed to happen” they are — die, knowing it’s my fault… it burns my soul every single day I’m awake and every single night I sleep.

So please… forgive me… for existing. That’s all I want. Just forgive me for being alive.

Maybe… that’s only something I can give myself. But it’d be nice if other people did too.

…

….it seems my time in the Void is over. Maybe I hit an epiphany. Maybe I just ran out of time. Who knows. I start to feel something resembling gravity take hold of me again, and as I begin to hope that I can come back here someday, just before I disappear from this realm altogether, I hear the sound of a sword begin to clash with another sword, the metallic sound echoing in the farthest reaches of my mind. And just like that, the ceiling of My Room opens out to my eyes.

“Ah.”

So, it’s another day of being alive for no reason then. Another day that I must stand up, put one foot in front of the other, and pretend that everything is okay. Another day I might have to damn a whole group of people to oblivion while I am denied it again.

Okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece to contribute for #FateWeek2021! The prompt was Memory, and I hope you all enjoyed reading!


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